Chosen For What
by Alhazad2003
Summary: Trevor Belmont goes on his journey to avenge his mother and purge the land of evil. Everyone tells him he was destined for such, he was constantly hailed as "the Chosen One." But is being the Chosen One everything it's all cracked up to be? Mirror of Fate one-shot.


A/N: Hello all, for anyone patiently (or possibly impatiently) waiting for the next chapters of my stories, they'll come in time. I'd been toying with this idea ever since I saw the Mirror of Fate walkthrough on youtube, and now it's finally here. For those who've played The Bard's Tale, you'll know exactly what the term "Chosen One" entails. For those that haven't, you'll find out very shortly, in this hopefully entertaining one-shot.

"a" one person talking, singing

"a" different person singing

"_a_" thinking, emphasizing, two people singing

"_**b**_" shouting, three people singing

* * *

A comely woman clad in a full length gray dress stood outside her house, her wavy red hair running down to her shoulder blades, and a worried look in her gray eyes. Beside her was a small boy of around four, with the same hair and eyes. He wore a light gray wool shirt, darker pants and fur boots on his feet. Around his neck was a mirrored pendant, which was granted to him by the man who'd begun in disappear into the woods beyond the village, as the sun began to set over the Carpathian Alps.

"Mother," the boy began with a concerned look, "will Father come back?"

The redhead paused for several moments, unsure about how to have responded. In truth she was also terribly worried, but didn't want to have worried her only child as well. "It'll be alright," she began, as she strove to have looked reassuring, "your father has prepared for this day since he was younger than you. And now, it is time for him to face his fate."

The child gave his mother a somewhat perplexed look, unconvinced by her assurances. "But will he come back?"

The troubled housewife sighed in response, troubled that her son hadn't been soothed as she'd hoped. "Yes, Simon," she finally spoke with a smile as she looked straight into his eyes, "he _will_ come back. It is his destiny to destroy the evil and save the land." She looked out over the horizon towards the edge of the forest where her beloved had vanished within but moments before. "For he is, the Chosen One."

* * *

Deep within a great fortress lied a single office, covered with religious decorations. At the far end was a great crest, which was the insignia of a holy order which had fought against evil for centuries. Near the crest was a polished dark mahogany desk, behind which sat a wizened man, clad in a long red robe with a black cloak draped across his shoulders. His long white hair framed his heavily wrinkled face, and his beard was tied at the very end. Attached to the front of his robe was a star pendant, which signified his rank amongst the order. Behind his chair was a long oak staff which he used for walking, as well as incanting spells. It was a keepsake of his predecessor, who'd died years before the current day.

Barely a day before, he'd received word of a omen, foretelling an imminent attack on the stronghold, led by the infamous Prince of Darkness, Count Dracula. To that end, he'd ordered his underlings to have informed the order's greatest warrior, Trevor Belmont, of the truth behind his lineage, hoping it would've prompted him into action. His predecessor had repeatedly told him that only those of the Belmont bloodline could've stood against Dracula.

As he continued to ponder the matter, a knock came from outside his door. "Enter," he spoke in an aged voice.

A few moments later, the door slowly creaked open, and a middle-aged man in a matching robe made his way inside. He quitely closed the door behind him, and then approached the desk. "Father Nandru," he began reverently, as h slightly bowed his head, "Trevor Belmont has just headed into Veros Woods, he should reach the castle in a matter of hours."

"Excellent," the elder replied with a grave yet satisfied expression, "then everything is going according to plan. Once he disposes of Dracula, the village will be saved from his evil. Prepare a grand celebration for Lord Belmont upon his return," he continued as he rose from his seat, and raised his arms expressively, "this will be the greatest day in our history since the fall of the Lords of Shadow."

The underling nodded in response, though his face looked troubled. "But, Father Nandru," he began tentatively.

"Yes, my son?"

The priest looked nervously about the room, then back to the elder. "Not to question you or anything, but... what if Lord Belmont doesn't come back?"

"Oh hogwash," the head of the order replied dismissively, "he's been training for this day his entire life, you really think after all the time and energy we've invested in him that he's going to... _fail,_" he asked, his face indicating he found the concept downright insulting.

"Erm... but-" the underling replied tentatively, shrinking under his superior's gaze.

"Do not be swayed, my son," the elder continued, "he is our greatest hope, chosen by God and by Fate, to put an end to the evil of Dracula once and for all. As long as we have Lord Belmont to defend us, we have nothing to fear."

"Are you sure," the somewhat younger priest asked, still a bit troubled about Belmont's chances.

"Of course, do not be swayed by the Devil's lies, he knows he cannot defeat us openly, so he resorts to such chicanery to undermine us, in hopes that we will defeat ourselves. But as long as we hold true to our faith, and believe in God's anointed warrior, then our salvation shall truly come," he concluded with a confident smile, as his eyes looked towards the heavens.

"Really?"

"Yes, so have faith in Lord Belmont," the elder replied with the same elated smile. "For he is, the Chosen One."

* * *

Far from the Brotherhood's stronghold, a ghastly being watched the scene within, as it sat upon a horrific throne made entirely of bones. The foul personage wore a long gray robe, with a brown habit over its head, with a badly cracked mask over its visage. Its clawed fingers tapped upon the handrests of its ruling seat, as its head was cocked to the side. A sickly green glow came from behind the cracked mask, as it regarded the scene before him.

"Hmph, Chosen One," it began in a contemptuous voice, "that's the same thing you fools said about Gabriel, and look what happened. And you really think his son's going to fare any better? Hmph, foolishness."

The ghastly being waved its clawed hand, and the scene before it disappeared, and was replaced by that of a lone warrior headed through a darkened forest. "I wonder how much they actually told him," it asked in a curious tone. "No matter, I'm certain he'll learn the whole truth once he meets his father again, maybe he'll learn he's not so different after all." A low chuckle escaped him, as he continued to watch the unfolding events.

* * *

A powerful man with long black hair made his way through the woods, clad in a long green coat with gold trim, and a white-collared shirt underneath. Heavy greaves covered and protected his legs, and gauntlets covered his hands and forearms. A single demonic-looking pauldron was slung over his right shoulder, which seemed somewhat out of place for a supposed warrior of righteousness, as he'd been raised to become since just before his birth. With his holy weapon in his hand, he planned to have purged the land, and his family, from evil forever. In his other hand was a crude torch, which illuminated the path ahead.

As he continued down the path through the woods, he saw a large patch of leaves which covered the way ahead. "T'ch," he began dismissively, almost insulted by the obstacle before him, "did they really think I'd fall for such an obvious trap?" He whipped his cross-like weapon out to the side, and a long length of chain swept across and blew the leaves aside. The warrior looked forth, and saw solid ground before him. "Hmm, perhaps I was mistaken," he mused, and went on his way.

Suddenly, the ground beneath him crumbled, which caused him to fall. As he looked down, he screamed as he saw a patch of bloody spikes below, with a body stuck upon them. He quickly looked about, and saw a shimmer on the other side of the pit. The dark-haired man quickly lashed out with his cross, and the chain whip wrapped around some protruding roots. He swung across the pit, and planted his feet against the other side.

The warrior paused to have caught his breath, as well as gotten his nerves under control. He looked down over his shoulder, and grimaced as he saw how close he'd come to a painful death. The knight shook his head of long black hair, and worked his way down the side of the deep hole. Once he reached his limit, he saw only a small fall below him, barely a meter at best. He released his hold on the roots, and jumped down to the bottom.

The powerful man brought his torch up, and watched the flickering light revealed the ghastly scene before him. Impaled upon the stakes was a young man in a crude-looking brown tunic, with matching pantaloons on his legs. In his right hand was a simple scroll, which glowed with an eerie purplish aura. "What," the warrior asked with a shocked look, "he was, part of the Brotherhood?" A brief examination told him the young man hadn't been officially knighted, which meant he couldn't have been more than a squire at best. He took the scroll from the youth's dead hand, and began to read the old parchment.

"How could this have happened? Father Nandru told me I was the Chosen One! He told me that I, Ogun, was destined to purge the evil from the land! Armed with my holy branch I should not have failed! So how, how could this have happened?"

Trevor Belmont gasped at what he'd just read, his eyes wide in shock. "This can't be," he spoke in disbelief, "Father Nandru said _**I**_ was the Chosen One, there _can't_ be any others! He wouldn't lie to me... would he?"

A grave look crossed his features as he examined Ogun's corpse, as doubt began to manifest in his soul. Before he could've dispelled them, he felt several inhuman presences in the area. "Who's there?!" he demanded as he got into a defensive position. He looked about the area, and soon saw three diminutive figures that weren't entirely human, clad in crude-looking tunics with pouches attached to their belts. The strangers were barely around a meter high, with elongated ears and conical-looking heads that were slightly sloped back. They were all covered with gray skin, and their legs looked horse-like in appearance, with dual knee joints and hooves instead of feet. The warrior saw no weapons on them, but kept a close watch as the monsters before him. As he stared fiercely at them, he watched as they bent their knees and moved their shoulders from the side to side. "_What,_" he asked himself mentally, "_are they... dancing?_" His confusion only grew as he heard a drumbeat in the area.

"_**Oh it's baaaaaaad luck to be **_**you,**" the monstrous trio sung in unison.

"_**WHAT?!**_" Trevor exclaimed in shock.

"_**A chosen one of many isn't new.**_

When you think you're full of luck, in the bullocks you'll get struck,

_**Oh it's baaaaaaad luck to be **_**you.**"

"What is this?!" the valiant warrior demanded.

"_**You've trained all your life for this night, they told you you're the champion of light.**_

But Ogun thought the same, now he's helpless, dead, and lame,

_you just don't have a chance to win this fight._"

"I'll show you!" Trevor protested, but soon found his words had gone unheeded.

"_**Oh it's baaaaaaad luck to be **_**you**_**, the prophecy is never coming true.**_

In a pickle you'll be stuck, like a chicken you will cluck,

_**Oh it's baaaaaaad luck to be **_**you.**"

The dark-haired man groaned incredulously, incensed at the inane demonstration before him.

"_**From this journey you'll neeever return, you silly humans never seem to learn.**_

_You'll realize you've been had, _which will make the Dark Lord mad,

_and he'll decide that **EVERYTHING MUST BURN!**_"

"_**WAH!**_" Trevor screamed in response to the menacing lyrics he'd just heard.

_**Oh it's baaaaaaad luck to be **_**you, **_**don't think for just a second it's not true.**_

When your life has run amok, _you will see that you're the schmuck!_

_**Oh it's baaaaaaad luck to be, really bad luck to be**_**,**

Nobody could disagree, it's a freakin' guarantee,

_**It's bad luck to be **_**you, **_**diddle dee doo.**_"

The three demihumans disappeared from the pit, leaving behind a very annoyed and disgruntled Trevor Belmont in their wake. After a few moments, he groaned and vigorously shook his head. "It's nothing, they don't know what they're talking about. Hang on, Mother," he continued as he looked to the starry skies above, "tonight you will be avenged."


End file.
